Wicked: The Life of a Witch
by Claudaujay
Summary: The story of Elphaba Melena Thropp told entirely in rhyming verse (combines the plot of both book and musical while also featuring my own additions).
1. Prelude

**Author's Note: Hey guys! This is a project I'd been thinking of pursuing for awhile, and this weekend I just decided i'd give it a go. Essentially, I'm retelling the story of Wicked entirely in verse (as the summary says) but I'm going to be making a few changes to the plot- the first of them comes in this prelude.**

 **I've always felt that the whole "the wizard is Elphaba's father" thing to be cliched, predictable and kinda derivative, so I wanted to give her a more inventive and darker reason for her being green. In the book, it passingly mentions Melena may have been raped by elves. In this version, Melena purchases a form of green elvish alcohol that drugs her and maker her pass out. Then they break in, and... well, read on an find out.**

 **Some stuff about the writing: it's 10 syllable lines with iambic pentameter and structured with rhyming couplets except for a few occasions where I go with ABAB. I'll post the next section of the poem whenever I finish.**

 **If there's any parts of the verse or language than you guys aren't sure you get (sometimes, you use a metaphor or a piece of imagery and it's only clear to the writer), feel free to PM me about. Also, please drop a review and tell me what you thought of they prelude!**

* * *

 _ **Wicked**_

 **Prelude:**

The poison courses through her limb to limb

And vein to vein. She drank upon a whim

To quench her thirst for an escape from life,

From pains and Unnamed Gods and strife,

But loneliness her drinking fails to quench,

The lust and frustrations that do entrench

Her like some soldier in an Ozma war,

The bullets screech- she fails to hear the door,

The poison she was sold, a viscous green,

A darker shade than grass that she has seen

Outside her window since they did arrive,

(Back then, she thinks, she almost felt alive)

The gang know its effect; their minds are sharp,

As sharp as all their elvish ears and teeth,

She is asleep as if under a harp's

Soft soothing spell, dissonance underneath,

They creep inside, their tinkling lullaby

Successful in its task. The room she lies

Within is empty save for things they take,

The preacher's house is stolen lest she wake,

They take all that their hungered hands can sell,

And for his wife the final fate befell

Her was the greatest single prize,

She felt no stab of swords, her sealed shut eyes

Were empty orbs. They left inside a seed,

To dig in roots and grow and slowly feed,

Until the day it finally bursts to bloom

And sprout its em'rald leaves. And in the gloom

The preacher's wife begins to blink and shift,

She's unaware of this unholy gift,

Their house is now corrupt with sin- a husk,

Its innocence has faded with the dusk,

Yet from this darkness something manifests,

A scourge to sour and soar the Ozian west.

* * *

 **Please RR.**


	2. Birth

_**Wicked**_

 **Birth:**

And so the hours and months do slip away

As quickly as she swigs her drinks. The days

Are wine that seeps and leaps into her blood,

The minutes beer that disappears like mud

Exposed to sun which swelters from the sky,

And deep within her silent chasm lies

The evidence of her unknown affair,

It lurks, it scours this dank and sinful lair

And savours, gorges on the scraps and drinks

The gall she swallows to her gut. She thinks

Her preacher sinks into his pious words,

He screams at men or even morning birds

But none do wish to hear his droning verse,

Damnation's in his pleading, muttered curse,

But irony has left the cruelest fate

For when he does return the Devil waits,

God's omnipresent light has failed to shine

For them, but they indulge that life is fine,

Her belly swells and still there is no sign,

They'd fail to heed the truth if stars aligned,

Until a day consumed by sunlight dawns,

The preacher from his path has strayed, forlorn

And unbecoming he's become but still

He leaves their house to spread his Father's will,

Depravity and paganism's jaw

Has fixed into the valley's throat with claws

Like shattered glass that cuts and bleeds you dry,

His flock have seen what's truth and what is lie,

This clock, a dragon that does rear its head

And roar a chime that strikes his heart with dread,

But still he preaches to who did attend

And soon, in drunken rage they do descend

Upon him, striking, kicking till he falls

A broken bloodied mess onto the ground,

His strangled cry the only obvious sound

Amongst an orchestra of shouts and screams,

For years this will replay in all his dreams,

And miles away the violins do rise

In tandem with his wife. She's agonised,

Her voice is hoarse yet strong and loud as drums,

Her mind implores to fall and to succumb,

But still she forces, trials with all her might,

The blood that drowns them both's a morbid sight

To see for any man but into night

They grapple and endure their lurid plight,

Until the light of day does finally come,

The gift God compensates them leaves them numb.

Where is the beauty men come to expect?

Where is the love that pummels, pounds the heart?

What should be miracle has ravaged, wrecked

Their home and left them yearning for the start,

This colour should be one of life and hope,

It breathes in all the forest's verdancy,

But here it is the noose, the tight'ning rope,

The arrow that does burrow in their knee,

She catches light, illuminates the room,

The candles' flick'ring flame does sear her skin,

She spells the end of love. Impending doom

For Oz she could give birth- here it begins,

They take their monster to its tiny bed,

It does not cry, but rests its emerald head.


End file.
